Dance in the Rain: Chosen Book 23

by J. D. Light

  I didn’t miss the way his lips twitched, telling me I was probably doing that thing again. It wasn't like I didn't think he was capable of things on his own, I just wanted to make everything as easy on him as possible, but I knew I was pushing it.

  "Everyone says you're a mean bastard," he said, when I slowly eased onto the seat next to him, not wanting to break the ancient looking wood.

  "I am." I said simply, putting my arm over the back of the bench, trying my best to make room for my massive shoulders.

  "Hmm, you've only ever been nice to me."

  I blinked out into the still mostly dark yard, frowning slightly. "That's because you deserve for people to be nice to you."

  "Because of my leg?" he asked, but even his tone in that question didn't sound accusing… more like he had a point.

  "No, because you're not like the people I usually deal with—criminals who want to make excuses about why it's okay for them to do the things they do, even when they hurt others." I was truly awed by the person sitting next to me, and I knew it was showing in my tone, but I couldn't pull back. "You don't make excuses about anything. You're strong and patient and forgiving. If anyone in the world deserves to be treated well, it's definitely you."

  "Wow," he whispered, staring up at me with wide eyes.

  I'd shocked him, but I didn't feel like he should be shocked at all. People should have told him this already. I––one of the biggest assholes around––shouldn't have been the first person to tell him how great he was.

  Clearing his throat, he shook his head, sending me a sideways smile. "You're right. You really are a bastard."

  Huffing out a laugh, I let my arm drop to his shoulder, pulling him closer to my side and pushing off the porch just enough to send us into a gentle swing.

  It was weird. Besides a pat on the back sometimes––usually just Rowe, because I felt like he needed it sometimes when he was trying to get down on himself––I wasn't really a touchy-feely person, but with Braden, it was a real struggle not to touch him constantly, and even weirder, for some reason, the sweet man let me.

  Somebody should really tell him not to let me into his life. Someone had to stop it before the real me came out. Someone that wasn't me, because I didn't seem to have the strength to stay away from him.

  Chapter Three

  I slowly came into consciousness, scratching my nose and getting frustrated at the fly that kept landing on my nose and tickling the shit out of me. I groaned, rolling my face into the pillow and rubbing my nose against the soft fabric.

  The scent coming off the material made my mind immediately go to the sexy, serious man who'd rescued me the night before, and all the fantasies I'd let myself have about him in the first real hot shower I'd had in months.

  The fly landed on my ear, making me grumble when his tiny little legs tickled the shell, and I growled, throwing my head around again.

  Seriously, this fucking bed smells amazing.

  I didn't remember falling asleep, but when I finally did, I must have passed out hard, because I wasn't sure how I got to my room.

  I stretched, rolling to my back and glancing over at the clock on the table. The time was much later than I wanted to see, but it wasn't the clock that had me practically springing into a sitting position and looking around.

  The bag sitting on the chair pushed against the short, little wall between the closet door and the bathroom door, didn't look the slightest bit familiar, and the color of the wall and the bedding in the room looked nothing like the room I'd been given by Recker while Meyers had been working.

  I'd had plenty of time to scrutinize that pattern, since I'd been staring at it off and on for several hours not being able to fall asleep the night before.

  "Were you planning on sleeping all day?"

  I jerked again, spinning to find Malik sitting on the other side of the bed with a feather, looking bored. "Also…" he said, leaning toward me before yelling, "what the fuck are you doing in Meyers' bed?"

  "What?" I yelped, looking back over at the bag on the chair, but since I didn't remember Meyers bringing a bag into the house, I honestly couldn't say whether or not it was his. I just knew it wasn't mine. "This is Meyers' bed?"

  "Yep."

  Eyes wide, I bit my lip, glancing down to at least confirm that I was still wearing clothes and didn't strip down naked before I climbed into his bed like a lunatic. "Did he know that I slept in his bed?"

  Malik's mouth curled into an evil smile, and he reached out and tapped my nose with the feather I hadn't even realized was in his hand until that moment. "I got that impression when he walked into the kitchen and told us that you were finally sleeping good and not to wake you up, before actually bringing a chair down the hallway to sit in front of your door like an overprotective sentry."

  I glared at the feather as he waved it around the room. My annoying fly had actually been my annoying friend.

  "Then how did you get in here?"

  He shrugged, the rude smile still on his face. "I waited until he took a bathroom break. I've been bringing him coffee since noon when he woke up. Even shifters can't hold it that long."

  "Why is he standing guard?" I asked, starting to get nervous. "Did something happen while I was out that made him think we needed guarding."

  "Nope. He just didn't want me to come in and wake you up, and he caught me sneaking down the hallway a couple of times trying to get back here," Malik said, and both of our heads swiveled toward the door as it opened.

  Meyers' scowl seemed to soften slightly when he looked at me, and I felt my stomach swoop. What was he thinking? Had I come and crawled in bed with him in the middle of the night? I couldn't deny that I'd thought about it multiple times when I was trying to fall asleep the night before, but I'd known even then I'd never get up the courage to do that, so instead I'd hobbled back and forth across the floor slowly, trying not to make too much noise, and not having much luck, apparently since...

  Wait. He'd come to my room. He'd heard me pacing back and forth and we'd talked a while and then moved to the porch. With the haze of waking up starting to ease from my brain, I was starting to remember, but for the life of me, I couldn't seem to remember beyond the porch swing. How had I gotten into his bed?

  Meyers' eyes finally released me where I'd been staring back at him with no telling what kind of expression on my face—probably a pretty fucking dumb one—and he glared over at my friend. "What are you doing in here? I told you to let him sleep."

  Malik shrugged. "He woke up."

  Meyers didn't look impressed with my friend in the least when his eyes fell to the feather Malik had lying across his lap where he sat cross-legged on the man's bed.

  Shit. I wasn't the only one invading his room anymore, because of my presence, Malik was too.

  "I'm sorry, Meyers," I said, trying to scramble out of the bed. "I didn't mean to take over your room." I paused, tilting my head to the side. "To be honest, I don't even know how I got here."

  And, what had I done once I'd gotten there? I'd never been a sleepwalker as far as I knew, but maybe all the shit that had happened to me lately could have caused it. Was that a thing? Did people develop a sleepwalking habit when they became overwhelmed?

  "I carried you," Meyers said, his eyes once again boring into me. "You fell asleep on me on the swing."

  "Oh!" Again, I tried to get myself untangled from the blankets, so I could climb out of his bed, but I knew I probably actually looked like I was trying a new breakdance move. "I'm so sorry," I grunted, when my good leg came up a little too hard and I ended up hitting myself in the chest.

  "Why are you apologizing?" He walked over, grabbing the blanket and flipping me first to my stomach. "I was the one that carried you in here," he grumbled, unwinding the blanket from around my hips, and then quickly flipped me on to my back, removing it easily from my legs.

  It was fucking hot as hell how easily he could move me around, but thankfully he was too busy folding the blanket to realize just
how much.

  "You carried him to your bed?" Malik asked, his eyes narrowed on the big guy as he laid the blanket along the foot of the bed.

  Meyers raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Malik. "Yes."

  It was odd, and maybe it was wishful thinking, but I felt like I could tell a difference in the man's tone, even when he was talking to Malik as opposed to when he was talking to me. It was almost like he was forcing himself to speak to Malik and remain civil, whereas words seemed to flow a little better when he was talking to me, and he seemed genuinely curious when he asked me questions.

  Of course, I was well aware of how prickly Malik was. Meyers' reaction to him in no way meant he had some kind of warm feelings for me, just that he was sick of Malik.

  "Where did you sleep?" My friend asked, his lips compressing angrily.

  "I also slept in my bed." Meyers stepped closer, his gaze coming back to mine. "I didn't take advantage of you or anything in your sleep.

  "Oh." I almost laughed. "I didn't even think of that."

  Actually, the fact that he'd slept in the bed with me in the first place was shocking enough. Hell, the fact that he'd put me in his bed instead of carrying me back up to my room—which I kinda understood since I wasn't the lightest person in the world—or on the couch in the living room, blew me away. I would never have expected him to actually get in the bed with me. He was lucky I hadn't molested him in my sleep.

  "I put pillows between us," he said, like he was reassuring me.

  "Of course," I said quietly, trying not to be hurt by it, but failing miserably. And what right did I have to be hurt? Hadn't I just thought how likely it was that I would molest him if he had slept next to me? Maybe it was the fact that he clearly knew that and was taking precautions against it that got me. I didn't miss how illogical that was either.

  I sighed, mentally rolling my eyes. I barely knew this guy, yet for some crazy reason I was letting how he felt about me run havoc on my emotions.

  "You should come eat something," He was watching my face, and I hoped it wasn't ratting me out about my emotions in that moment. "I don't know how you feel about breakfast in the afternoon, but Recker made some cinnamon rolls you might like."

  "Okay." I started to climb out of the bed, but Meyers simply reached out and lifted me, easily placing me on my feet on the floor, making it look like it was nothing, and I blinked up at him, smiling. "Thanks."

  He cringed slightly, the motion barely visible. "Too much, yet?" he asked quietly, his hands sliding down my sides to rest on my hips as he stood close enough that his breath fanned against my upturned face.

  I shook my head, not sure I could talk while looking up into his ruggedly handsome face. I was really starting to adore his constant scowling, but what I liked the most, was the way his face softened when he looked at me.

  And oddly, I liked the way he tended to be a bit too protective. The way he tried to help just a little too much. I didn't understand it, since I'd never really wanted much help in the past, not even when I was young before I broke my leg. I had a tendency to be a bit of a loner and really would just rather do something myself than go through the irritation of explaining what I wanted done, but with Meyers, I was finding that I liked when he helped me, probably because it meant he touched me.

  His lips parted slightly as he watched my face, his eyes dropping to my mouth. My heart rate picked up as I watched them darken. My dick filled, and a part of me wanted to lean toward him, possibly rub my entire body against his, and the other part of me, the rational part that remembered there was a chance he not only wasn't gay, but was actually not at all okay with the fact that I was, told me to step back.

  It was a hard fought battle between the two parts, but the rational part won out, and I gave him a soft smile before stepping back.

  He blinked hard, seeming to shake himself, and then he cleared his throat, turning abruptly and walking out of the room.

  I watched him leave, feeling a little sad for some reason, like I'd managed to mess something up that I didn't understand.

  "You like him, don't you?" Malik asked, as Meyers disappeared around the jamb of the door, and I started slightly, turning to blink at him for a moment before realizing what he'd just said.

  "Shhh," I whisper-yelled, widening my eyes.

  "Don't think I didn't see you sniffing his pillow," Malik said, pursing his lips disapprovingly.

  Closing my eyes, I let my head fall back on my shoulders, hoping the man wasn't standing right outside that door eavesdropping, since Malik didn't seem to have any desire to spare me the embarrassment of how I'd woken up.

  "We can't trust them, Braden," he said sternly, his voice shaking with emotion. "They're shifters. They all want the same thing from us—to use us for the babies we can have for them."

  I'd only met Malik a couple of months ago, when they brought him in a week or two after they brought me in, but everything about the guy told me, what we'd been through at the house had only been the most recent way people had made him completely untrusting of everyone and everything.

  I hated that for him. I hated that so much had happened to him in his life that he would probably never trust anyone enough to let them in. I was the closest thing he had to a best friend, and I knew he held a lot back from me.

  "Has anyone made you feel uncomfortable since you've been here?" I asked quietly.

  "No…" He used his head to point back into the room. "…but you just woke up in the cranky one's bed. Why would he put you in his bed?"

  I shrugged, rolling my eyes. "I'm kinda heavy, Malik. Carrying me up the stairs would have been pretty daunting." I moved toward the door, my steps awkward, and I gave a small laugh. "Do you honestly think he's just dying to get with this?" I asked, sweeping my hands down my body as I looked back over my shoulder at my friend… and promptly ran smack into something hard and unmoving.

  I didn't even have to look. I knew how things went. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to center myself before I opened them again and looked up at the man.

  "I could have easily carried you up the stairs," he grumbled, leaning his face down, closer to mine. "But I wanted you close by."

  My mouth fell open and I flailed around trying to figure out the words I needed.

  "Eavesdropping?" Malik asked snarkily, moving around us and out into the hallway, stopping to throw Meyers a glare over his shoulder. "That's a little creepy."

  Meyers didn't even look in his direction, waiting until he was gone before he spoke again, and it was directly in my face when he did. "Shifters have really good hearing. We could all hear you from the kitchen."

  I groaned, once again closing my eyes as embarrassment swamped me, making my hands sweat. "Oh good. It's been a really long time since I've had a nice thick dose of humiliation. I was getting too complacent," I mumbled.

  "What is there to be embarrassed about?" he asked, and I snapped my eyes back open.

  "Uh…" Shit. If he hadn't heard, I definitely didn't want to tell him. "Never mind."

  "Is it the sniffing?" he asked, his voice deep and gravely. "Do you like me, Braden? Because I've been trying to fight this fucking thing, and I'm failing so hard."

  I tried not to make a noise as my dick filled once again, but a grunt escaped.

  His arms wrapped around me, and he pulled me in hard to his body, letting me feel the ridge of his erection against mine, and I gasped at the contact.

  "I know I'm too messed up in my head to have someone like you…" he whispered, his mouth getting closer and closer to mine. "…but I can't get enough of your scent. I could have taken you to your room last night. I probably should have taken you to your room last night, since the more I'm around you, the more I want you... but I couldn't… and I am a creepy fucking bastard, because I spent hours watching you sleep, and fought with myself the entire night on whether or not I should be doing any of it."

  He leaned in the rest of the way, sipping gently from my lips, growling and doing it again. His lips
felt amazing against mine—softer than I expected given how unforgiving his face tended to be. My knees gave as he went in for a third, and he caught me, a concerned frown on his face.

  "Are you okay?"

  I swallowed, nodding. "Yeah."

  "Did I scare you?" When I shook my head… a bit longer than was necessary, his lips twitched slightly. "You sure?" I shook my head again, and Meyers surprised me by letting out the smallest huff of laughter, before pulling away slowly and taking my hand.

  "Let's get you some food."

  ***

  Rain poured down over the edge of the roof, and I smiled, closing my eyes for a moment and taking long deep breaths of the summer rainstorm.

  I'd always loved the smell of rain in the summer. Before my incident––couldn't really call it an accident when I’d purposely jumped off the roof of the barn––I'd always go out and run through it, as long as there wasn't any lightning.

  North Dakota temps never really got to what most people would consider balmy, but after the sometimes harsh winters, eighty in July, in homes not usually equipped with air conditioners, meant needing some kind of respite, and the rain had always seemed like a fun treat.

  After I broke my leg, running hadn't really been all that possible, and the prospect of hobbling through the rain hadn't seemed like that much fun, but sitting there on that porch swing, gently pushing myself along with my good leg and breathing in one of the best smells of summer, helped pull my mind away from a world I suddenly didn't understand.

  What the hell was going on? I knew my limp wasn't a complete turnoff to everyone. I knew even the sight of my leg didn't kill the mood for some people. I hadn't had loads of sex by any means, but I'd had it enough to know there were people out there who found me attractive. At least, enough to have sex with me. Hell, I'd even had a boyfriend—once.

  It was freshman year in college and only lasted two months, and he ended up cheating on me, but for two months of my life, I'd had someone of my own.

  Lance had been just as self-conscious as me, though not for such an obvious reason like my leg. He just had some pretty severe social anxiety that made it to where he didn't like to be in public, but at least we'd been on a somewhat equal footing confidence wise, which was where most people tended to date.